Chapter 12: Ties that Bind


"Are you sure about this, Bill?" Asked Eddie Kaspbrak, trying to hide the worry in his voice. Until the very last moment, he didn't actually believe this was actually happening. He'd tried to push the fact aside until his eyes came across the missing kids' posters. One showed a young man, just at the step of adulthood it seemed, called David Harris, and another one was of a girl with bright eyes — Madeline Glave. Eddie believed he saw her mother accompanied by a police officer, waiting outside the school building, during his walk around the somewhat unfamiliar streets of Derry. The sight had truly gripped his attention, for it all was happening the way it did when he was a kid. Mothers waiting for their deceased children just where they were last seen, fathers subsisted in a dreadful, helpless silence... It used to be Eddie's past as well, and though he didn't know these people, it was clear for him, that this was the girl's mother. If only he could spit the bitterness out of his heart like the one that stays in one's mouth after swallowing their medicine...

"Poor Eds! Don't worry, I'll hold your hand." And there was Richie, back again under the cover of the never ending babbling and the thick lenses of his glasses. Believe it or not, but he was also scared. Same goes to all the Losers, but what he'd experienced during his return was going to give him nightmares for years. However, he liked the fire of determination burning inside of him. It was good to at last have a particular purpose to his actions. But the most important thing was, he really did miss those bastards.

"I told you not to call me that!"

"Oh, look at you. You're red as a tomato! What is this, another asthma attack? Cute, little E-"

"Beep-beep, Richie." Ben cut him off. The one and only, oh so changed Ben Hanscom, but only on the outside. Shaped like a model, maybe even thinner than it was necessary for a man his age; the skin was tightly enveloping the muscles, hanging just slightly loose on his stomach. He's gone a long way to achieve this, but what exposed the teenage boy still remaining in him, was the man's gaze focused at the group's only girl (or should I say woman?), even as he spoke to Richie.

"It's OK, Eddie." Said she, placing a comforting hand on the shaken up Eddie, who's been gripping the respirator close to hos chest. "You know we have to do this."

"I know, I know." He straightened up a little.

"Bill, just tell us when you're ready." Beverly was probably the most collected one of them at the moment. Despite all, she felt alive and strong. Considering what she's gotten herself into throughout the years, every day was full of distrust and the sweet torture of being her husband's punching bag, so what this situation truly meant to her was redemption. Hasn't she already battled the fear of being stuck in dependency?

The Losers were encircling the black pit of the well inside the dreadful house on Neibolt street. The cobwebs were still covering every inch of this place, dried out plants with their crooked vines going up to the ceiling, coiling around the pillars and chandeliers, choking life out of them. Dead leaves covered the washy carpets like peeled skin, while the weak construction creaked continuously. The house hasn't changed at all during almost three decades, and was just as dauntingly sinister. But the secrets it held were even more devilish, such as the well itself — a way straight to hell. (Can someone's hell be someone else's shelter?)

Bev had a baseball bat, Bill and Eddie had flashlights, while Richie had his talk, and Ben carried the heavy cartridges attached to a giant belt around his torso.

History was repeating itself, but not completely, for there was only six of them. No one said it out loud, but they all feared that six might just not be enough no matter how hard they'd try. Well, there was only one way to find out, and they were going to test their luck once again. They had to, though their return was just the opposite of encouraging. Yes, each of the Losers had seen Pennywise during their first day, and the creature was just as real and haunting as when they were kids. Ben went to the library, Eddie to the pharmacy, Beverly to her long-lost home, Richie to the park, where the crime scene loomed abandoned, but not yet forgotten, and Bill ended up near the Barrens. It was in all these places, sneering with eyes aflame, screaming "You're too old! You're all 'too old' to stand against me!" That was a warning brought up not to scare them off, because Pennywise knew just who he was dealing with, but to plant a seed of doubt in their hearts. But the friends weren't going to give up. Not when so much was at stake.

The six scars on each palm started to pulsate, urging them to proceed with what was to be done. To clear this town fundamentally out of its rot. To clear their own minds of the daunting creature, always lurking in the shadows of their past. Adulthood has changed them, and yet not quite. If any of them was asked of their age, it would take a lot of focus not to say 'thirteen' or 'twelve' without stopping to think twice. Going back to Derry meant going back to who they were. Eddie using the aspirator while knowing he was never really sick, Richie wearing glasses though he'd changed them to contact lenses long ago, Ben looking at Beverly, Beverly looking at Bill, Bill stuttering — it all made sense, and they knew it.

"A-alright. Mike, could you?" Bill outstretched his hand, asking for the strongly interlaced rope Mike'd brought along with the two large pistols resting in the holsters on the man's sides. He handed the rope to Bill, though he could use it himself. Bill was the leader, no question about it.

And as any true leader would, he had a serious look on hos face while tying it to the rail above the well.

"Let's g-g-go."

"Hey! Everyone cares only about Big Bill. What if 'I'm' not ready? Hm? What then? Am I not important to you guys?"

"Shut up, Richie."

"Yeah, shut up Richie."

Bill got to the stony edge, and they all watched as the first Loser began to make his way down, while Richie Trashmouth Tozier went on with the mumbling.

"OK, OK I'll shut up, but who's gonna favor y'all with all those brilliant dick jokes? I'm telling you, you're gonna beg me to speak up."

("I really doubt that." Would've said Stan, had he been there with them.)

Bev cracked a laugh and somehow, each of them felt slightly better. Even Eddie giggled. Sometimes Richie's rudeness could be of some use, when it was about brightening up the mood. Only Mike, whose been keeping himself at distance since their late night talk at the library, where the decision to encounter It once again was made, he said nothing, and still had only worry exposed in his features.

There was a long way down ahead of them.


Pennywise's gloved hand hung in the air, waiting for the girl to accept it, but she was not sure. Madeline's seen examples of ballroom dancing in all those movies where all the beautiful ladies drifted gracefully across the dance floor along with their partners, and always thought it a dream come true, an exquisite, uncommon thing to do. But now, she felt nothing like a beautiful, light-footed lady.

He was patient, he did not urge her, and only because of that she finally placed her palm on his.

"I've never actually danced." She admitted shyly.

"That's fine. It's even best this way." A full smile expanded on his lush lips. Something about that girl's uncertainty and lack of experience in certain situations was just irresistibly captivating for him. "You'll have a proper tutor. Now..." The clown made a step forward and put his hand on her side. At the same time his gestures were both official and intimate, and it seemed quite weird to Madeline. This side of him was completely new to her, but she didn't know It felt unfamiliar with it as well.

"Place your hand on my shoulder." She did; just in between his collar and the giant puffed sleeve, but that would be impossible without the girl standing on the tips of her toes. "Good. Now try and follow my steps. Let me lead. It's easy."

It looked easy, but wasn't easy at all. They didn't break straight away into a flawless dance, they actually looked a bit stiff. With Madeline gazing down intensively, the Clown had to hold in a giggle each time she stepped on his feet. Seeing his amusement, she'd scowl at him and keep on stubbornly repeating his movement.

"But don't look down, Madeline. There is no dance without eye contact." And that was what concerned her the most. Looking into his eyes never ceased to intimidate her, but as they remained blue it was a little easier to hold the gaze. Instead of the red pom-poms of his shoes, she now focused on the slight hints Pennywise's upper body gave her as to direct her steps, and it went, in fact, notably better than before. He moved forward; she leaned backward, he turned to the side; she followed, a repetitive one, two, three, one, two, three... like a song in her head. And yet, the girl was still too distracted by his hold, and stare, those ropes around her and the feeling of unsteadiness in general. He sensed it all, of course.

"Relax. They won't let go, I promise. I won't." And that's when it clicked. Madeline finally stopped thinking, and let herself be led, almost floating in the air like a doll, a marionette. He spun her around smoothly, and step by step drove them into a quicker pace in a very peculiar form of waltz, slightly reinvented by him. He believed a similar one was danced by Derry's townsfolk at a festival about two centuries ago. And if It was to be honest, doing a simple, regular dance after all these years felt amazing, relieving even. In one particular moment, the creature felt the claws oozing back out impulsively, reacting to the contact between them, but he made them stop, before she noticed. He made them stop. He made them stop. Furthermore, he's done it automatically, without any great effort. It could be compared to an action as holding a breath or so, but what an exquisite feeling it was. Pennywise — the prisoner of his own insidious nature — has finally used it to his own benefit. Tamed it. It had never happened before. Not like this. Was that because of her? Was there a possibility that somehow the girl could cure him? No, no that would be foolish of him to believe, but definitely something unusual was happening, and it caused a weird mix of conflicting emotions to run through It's mind. Unlike Madeline, It knew their relationship was in danger and just longed for a moment free of worrying and thinking about how to make it last. If this moment wasn't right, there wouldn't be a better one. Pennywise smiled a full, toothy grin, and swirled the girl around, then held her tighter. She was having a good time as well. Feeling like a feather carried by the wind, the whole world, consisting only of wooden walls, drapery and candlelight, spun around her continuously, and she wasn't dizzy at all. For a moment she was flying, she was safe. No. Not safe, but free... Funny, she should feel that way anywhere but in his arms. For the first time they were synchronized, equal. Their bodies moving to the same rhythm, their breathing calm and collected, hearts pounding in the same pace; hers young and true, his; dark as the depths of underground.

And then it all disappeared. The Clown froze as caught by a death grip, with an empty stare. He was already somewhere else, seeing this which did not please him at all. Madeline gave him a questioning, hopeless look, not understanding one bit what was happening.

"They're in." That was all the creature'd said before looking longingly into her eyes once more, and vanishing, just like that.

The girl hung there for a couple seconds, motionless, completely bewildered. A breath was caught in her throat, and when she let it out, suddenly all the air seemed to leave her body, making Madeline tumble to the ground. The feather has fallen.

What the hell has just happened? Who's in? And what does that mean?

While the girl was left alone, still partially upheld by those loose strings, with grievance taking over her mind, and nothing else to contemplate, one thought suddenly beamed brighter that the other ones.

Mike.

If anything goes wrong I will call for help, he'd said. Maybe that's what he did. But... But how, and what help was that exactly? Was she really in need of any help? Damn it, of course she was! Maybe Mike's brought backup, maybe... Oh no.

If this was true, if that really were the Losers, there were not so many possibilities as to how it all would end. It was either them, or It. But what could Madeline do about it? What role was she to play in the final encounter? Because she couldn't just do nothing, could she? Could it even be defeated? And if it is defeated, then...

A pained expression took over her features, while selfish thoughts spread in her brain. Selfish thoughts that should not be, but oh they were.


"I don't even understand, this place should be too much even for that nasty fucking creep." Richie's voice echoed in the darkened tunnel, along with the paddling of six silhouettes moving forward. He was clenching his nostrils, breathing only through his mouth, highly irritated.

"You don't say." Grumbled his fellow friend Eds, nonetheless repulsed with all the so said 'grey water'.

"Should've taught the jerk what an air freshener is, before shoving it up his ass."

"Shh! W-we ha-ave to stay f-focused." Bill stated cautiously, directing the light from left to right, and then left again, scanning the area restlessly. He really wasn't in the mood for jokes right now. They were close to each other, slowly making their way into the darkness; Mike covering their backs, Bill at the front, guiding the way. The further they got in, the deeper Bill's mental scars were being cut into by the invisible blade of memories, making the man's soul bleed with the guilt he still felt somewhere deep, deep down inside. Georgie... Whispered a teenage boy's voice trapped inside his head. But the grown up wouldn't let it take over. He's learned to live with it, to function normally, but the feeling was still there. Quiet and distanced, not aching to ve expressed no more, but would probably stay with him until his very last day.

"No worries, Big Bill. We're gonna kick It right in the pom-poms." There was just no such word as 'enough' in Richie's dictionary.

"It would be best to figure out the way first. And not split up. Under any circumstances." Mike stated, gazing at each face, trying his best to make the message clear. He remembered just how it went when they got distracted before, and didn't notice that Stan was missing. To take them down one by one was a piece of cake for It, but together they did have a chance.

"I think the first ramification is just ahead of us. We should go up the tide. That's where the center is." Suggested Ben. He didn't know exactly how did he come up with the idea, but it was probably because of his profession. Being an architect had its advantages. But the thing was, there was no tide. And even if there was, it was barely noticeable.

And so on they went, damped in the filthy water up to the knees. Ben was right. After not more than a couple minutes the tunnel opened to three passageways; one more spooky than the other. Bill ordered them to stop, and the friends turned to decide which one to choose, all except for Beverly.

The red-head went on just a few steps further into the central one, and then stopped to a halt momentarily. Her hands squeezed around the baseball bat.

"Guys..." She called still gazing at what occurred before her. "I think you might want to see this."

Lush, shiny balloons filled the tunnel, floating on air, moving smoothly like wraiths. Together they spelled a huge 'WELCOME BACK', written in large, white letters, one for each crimson orb. There were more, as the passage went on, with arrows pointing ahead like road signs. The message was clear. Let the game begin.